My heart tries (in feeble attempt) to write itself down —
to express with mere words, my only sanity — this belief,
this love, this art, this practice. So, with compliment,
I retire to the sea and watch the waves
and time slip by…
I feel out my “ancestors” — my
reign, my “roots” — am I
tied?
I think not.
I think not of stupid things and meditate on nothing. I write
emotions and feelings that bubble up and change course
over a “moment” — across borders, la frontera…
etc. etc.
I value my “freedom”/responsibility to choose and act
wisely — with grace and intelligence; carefully. I feel out
my better steps and pay no mind to false critics who
think they may judge the value of my work —
an extension, like an arm, of my being here.
At present, I am reminded of how I began, as things
end and “time” is seemingly more concrete,
more like ice — susceptible to wear, but
fragile, broken, and never there…
nothing to depend on.
I buy books because they are blank.
I don’t read books because they are empty inside.
I write and paint and draw “now” because it is natural
like breathing — a new sense that I am exploring.
My favorite words begin and end in the same sentence —
they are concise and brief — simple, yet strong.
My favorite song is slow and melodic.
My time is not wasted on fools or dream-
thinkers.
Dreamers are actors who believe in beliefs —
in what they see, how they feel, and history —
the way things are.
Dreamers are false idols.
Anything that can be seen, touched, or tasted —
sensed, is false — truth cannot be sold, bought,
held, or forgotten; known or forgiven — or
given, like in a book or inherited like a
strong nose.
My ancestors gave me false starts, but maybe I was one
of them, on a a slave ship, out in the fields —
freezing, thawing, working, dying.
And now what?
How am I different? What is different?
What has changed?
My heart still beats boldly, strangely, desperately
for freedom
and my mind still allows for control —
who am I?
And why, oh why, am I here — as a reminder that
I am no longer? Or as a symbol
of temporary form — of dying and
death?